Wednesday, December 31, 2008

While I am sick as I type this, it is apparently clear that cold and flu season is upon us. As 2008 concludes, the one constant is shitty weather and runny noses. We need a formula that speaks to US for a cure. We need a syrup that is as gritty and old school as the weathered streets of Bridgeport, Connecticut. I give you a fresh face with a taste of yore, I give you Farmer Stinky John's Melikough Syrup...

That's right Louder Than Bomb's own Johnnyboy's first endorsed product! Honestly dude, I can't wait to get me some pessimistic goodness from Garden Terrace (a subsidiary of the Gillman Group).

Monday, December 22, 2008

“What’s your favorite show?” “I don’t have time to watch television.” First of all, you are a fucking liar. Everybody squeezes in their share of hours on the tube, at the very least weekly. If you are too busy eating tofu and trying not to break your own neck (as you try to suck your own dick), then surely your wi-fi connection at Starfucks on your Macbook Air, you watch Hulu or any number of online webcasts. My point is everyone watches television. Everyone also has to deal with commercials that come with this form of entertainment. We always will, you have to pay the bills somehow. Back in the day, be it cars, beer, food, toys and household products that dominated these 4 minute breaks. Now, even during a damn NFL game, I see commercials for pills and other medications. Whether it is acid reflux (motherfucking check on that) or trying to pop a boner (check in 10-30 years or when I’m way too drunk), these commercials are rampant. Then I see these anti-depressant commercials, ah I don’t need pills to make me happy (Although other staff here would beg to differ). That’s what booze are for. But those commercials make a fair point. However, I am more of a natural high type of guy. I hate working out, but I like the feeling I get when I lose a couple of pounds and avoid growing a nice rack of man-boobs for another few years. I like the smell of fresh baked cookies or a mid-day nap. But then again there are some things I like that I can’t necessarily talk about at lunch with my co-workers, so here it is a list of things that make me happy. A long few years ago, a big Yale offensive lineman in a drunken rage told my father that I am an asshole. He then stared me down, with a frozen pizza box in hand and uttered these words, “Jon, you are a miserable bastard and are going to die alone.” He then threw the pizza box at my beloved Lazy Boy chair. I then thought to myself, “Well, I can barely share a queen size bed with a lady, much less a casket.” While that man still holds a lifelong grudge against me, I am really not that bad of a guy. I’m not that miserable, but what is being happy? I’ll tell you what happy is…

Getting a blowjob without having to return the favor. Don’t get me wrong if the maincourse is just of the oral consent, I don’t mind going down on a fresh, nubile vagina. In fact, I’ve repeatedly been told that I am a champ at it (it can be a hairy situation at times though). Sometimes after a long day it just hurts my neck and I don’t feel like it. If the girl doesn’t care (or I don’t care about her) I’ll take a benevolent blowjob any day of the week. I know what you’re thinking: penetrating is great (and it is!), but there are days (specifically lazy Sundays) where I’ll just as well take that blowjob and get off just as much. You know what got me off the most? The fact that I contributed absolutely nothing to the cause…oh yeah and her mouth. Next...

Taking a big, old fashioned dump. Oh I just did one, which is making me write this post. So as I’ve alluded to earlier, I have an acid reflux issue and yes it sucks. The short end of the story is that I oft take shits. Some messy, some refreshingly quick, some after drinking beer (the uglies). Every now and again there will be the perfect dump. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try. There was a time several years ago when I took Imodium…in massive amounts. I was on vacation and with my stomach problems mounting, I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from letting loose, pun intended. I guess I got Imodium confused with Tums and Gas-X and didn’t take a shit for nearly five days. Five days of burgers, fries, milkshakes, cookies, chips, beer, hard alcohol, soft alcohol, chicken wings, pizza and late night bags of greasy chips and other unhealthy garbage all sitting in my stomach. After three days, I embarrassingly told a buddy about this problem. Was it a change in scenery? Were my stomach and asshole on non-speaking terms? He bluntly explained just what Imodium does so now I play the waiting game and have to stew in my poopy juices. Well the waiting game concluded once I returned from my vacation…at work. Relieved, I went…and went. It might have been a Guinness Book record. I even took a picture of it to share with my co-workers. Now I know what it feels like to give birth to a little shit of a child.

Eating enough raw cookie dough to give me a stomachache. Actually that one is pretty straight forward, it’s just delicious.

Imitating a friend’s voice…until he or she wants to physically harm you. So I have a small talent, or so I’ve been told that I can imitate some people pretty well. We all know it is an extrapolation of how the imitatee acts, but it’s not always seen that way. I’ve been told imitation is the best form of flattery, so I view my imitations as just that. If I really hated someone’s guts, why would I have put the time in to do an imitation in the first place? When people are drunk or angry…or both, they often tell you how they feel about you without pulling any punches. Some is said at merely the heat of the moment and should not be taken seriously at sober, less raging, happier times. The same goes for an imitation. Once you discover funny words to say as an imitator, you test it out in the car, then in front of a friend, then a group of friends, then a bar, all while doing this behind the imitatee’s back (especially if it is a dead-on imitation). Eventually, this becomes a cycle of life for you and your group of friends. You get ready to go out, get in your car, buy the beer, get drunk and do the imitation. After a period of time, you start to do the voice (usually in a very sly manner) in front of the person you are imitating. Sometimes, the person will recognize this and say, “Hey is that me!?! Haha, that’s pretty good.” In a perfect world, said person would even embrace it to the point where, it grows old and runs its course. Most of my friends, however, are the ones that will tell me my faults and quirks. Tell me how I don’t know when enough is enough, tell me how drunk I got last night and tell me about the regrettable women I’ve pleasured or displeasured. Out of all of my friends, I will be the first to admit that my tongue is way to sharp for its own good. I can break a person down to a point where their only riposte is physical harm towards me. Good comeback. Where was I going with this?

Retro video games, hanging out with my nieces and nephew (because they are more interesting to talk to rather than the miserable adults in the family), sex in which the woman lets me really have my way, a great meal of Italian or Spanish food, the first date with a chick I actually might like, money, gigantic HDTVs, refreshingly pleasing customer service, watching a great flick, stupid viral clips, the perfect haircut, knowing I have the drive to be more successful than most of my friends, discovering a great band’s catalog for the first time, being pleasantly surprised (by an unsuspecting movie/CD), a great sports game, the feeling you get from drinking right in between the buzz and being too drunk, buying gadgets/movies I don’t really need and laughing so hard it hurts are other less detailed things that place me in high spirits. Overall, I am not very difficult to please. A big flaw, at least in the eyes of people that think they know me, is that I love to laugh. Sometimes at what, is questionable. The bottom line, is while you are breaking down my character in your head while angrily crying yourself to sleep listening to Papa Roach’s Last Resort, I am having a rough time sleeping as well, but only because my 50 inch television gives off a ton of light. The truth of it all is this: I’m better than you and during this ecomonic crisis some extra money can in fact buy happiness. Just remember kids, a laugh at someone else's expense, exhilarating dumps and blowjobs (if you apply yourself) are free and great. So be a jerk, take a shit and whip it out life is too short (just not in my direction).

Monday, September 29, 2008

I think its fucking great. I just read that the bail-out plan posed by Congress has been shot down, and I for one almost blew my load. I bet by tonight or by the end of the week, they'll have passed something which will bail out Wall Street, and save the country blah blah blah... but as for right now, I can be happy. Buying up the bad debt in this country is paramount to becoming socialists. Couldn't afford a 2 million dollar mcmansion but took out a mortgage you wouldn't be able to pay off anyway? Then FUCK YOU, welcome to the trailer park.

The people who are going to be hurt by this, or more importantly the only people that I give a shit about in this instance, are the middle class Americans who are going to see their 401 K's etc. raped by this. That reason alone should be enough to send those Wall Street cocksuckers to jail for life. Greed corrupts, and we all know that, but now we can actually see it. I am grinning from ear to ear just contemplating the clenched fisted anxiety and panic that the "upper crust" are feeling right now.

I say fuck em. Get together in groups, if you're retirement plans, or your hard earned money has been negatively effected by this, and go storm the Country Clubs. Burn them down, sink the boats at the yacht clubs, slash tires on Mercedes, throw dog shit at mansions, and when you see a guy walking down the street wearing shoes that are worth more than you make in two weeks, beat the ever living shit out of him and shove his shoes up his ass. Man it feels good to watch them cringe.

(I am in no way advocating violence, destruction of property or vandalism... If you feel the need to engage in such activities, enjoy prison.)

Monday, August 25, 2008

Alright the Olympics are over, and fat-assed house wives from the mid-west and the elderly are crying in their porridge. I for one, am happy. The Olympics are the biggest, most hyped-up bullshit collection of sporting events around today. Does anyone really care? Maybe Jamaicans and Estonians but as Americans, we have entertaining sports to watch. Most Americans who watched the Olympics watched the U.S. basketball team and Michael Phelps... do you know who those Americans were?? Answer : American basketball fans and people who enjoy watching a good freakshow. Michael Phelps is a double jointed, stubby legged, calorie slurping troglodyte who resembles Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel from the Simpsons. Retard strength at its finest. Who knows, maybe the clown was born in Atlantis.I would respect, and maybe even watch the Olympics if they were played every four years, in Greece, and only if the sports were classic and period. Discus, Javelin, Running, Wrestling..... the real shit. I doubt the original Olympians had synchronized diving, BMX'ing or ping pong in their plans. Shit, I bet if you had proposed one of those "hobbies" to the original Olympians, they would probably have given you a quizzical look and then skewered your beer gut on a spear. (Due to the fact that they wouldn't have any idea what a BMX was, and you probably wouldn't be speaking ancient Greek.) Alas, 'ti's not to be. We're stuck with a bunch of bullshit sports that no one gives a shit about.Running. Theres a fucking joke. Every race some lanky Jamaican or Nigerian wins. I don't even know why white guys try. Lets face it folks, they're running either in a straight line, or a big loop. Wow, what athletes. How 'bout next time around, the crowd can throw things at the runners, or even try to tackle them. Snipers should be dispatched all around the arena and every once in a while a runaway car should make an appearance on the track. Lets see you outrun a .556 Usain. I say fill the pools with salt water and aggressive sharks. If you can swim fast, great... now lets see if you can outrun Jaws, Michael.. my bet is you can't.That IOC (International Olympic Committee) is a waste of time. What a great beacon of sports and sportsmanship. Allow blatant cheating when it comes to an athlete from the host country, and then on top of that, allow the whole damn thing to take place in a communist country that has been systematically destroying the spirit of not only it's own people, but the people of an oppressed country called... oh... Tibet for years. Justice and sport for all! If Michael Phelps had any class, or any sort of real American Patriotism, he would take his medals and return them to the committee. Or ask that the gold be melted down and the money sent to a family in Tibet. All the American athletes should. Would they accept medals from Iran, or Syria? Same thing people. Just goes to show that the Olympic spirit of thousands of years ago is dead and gone.At least the shitshow known as the Olympics is over, and I don't have to hear about it for another four years. Just knowing that it's coming back though is enough to make my blood boil. If that wasn't bad enough... the Winter Olympics are coming up... I think. Great. The ancient Greek tradition of ski-jumping and bobsledding will live on for years to come. I think I'm going to be sick.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Two R.I.P posts on a blog created for laughs seems a bit much. Sorry kids, Jondrama, Phil and I are Yankee fans. Adios Bobby Murcer.

He never won a ring with the Yanks. He played his ass off though. Batted a career .277 with 252 homers and 1,043 RBI's. Not too shabby. As a Yankee fan who began his journey through the wonder of the pinstripes during the 80's, I missed his time on the squad. He played his last year the year I was born though, so I feel that I was around for the Murcer years. I knew of Murcer through his wonderful commentary. His back woods, small town, hicky slang mingled with and burned in the bright lights of the big apple. The kid from Oklahoma was more a New Yorker than half of the guys on the grand squad from the Bronx these days. He bled baseball, and more importantly, he bled pinstripes. Love the Yanks or hate them, no one can say they didn't have a soft spot in their hearts for Bobby.

Allen is a story we hear from our grandparents, Rizzuto is a fond memory, Sterling is a great alternative to watching the Bombers on the tube, and Bobby is a player/announcer Yankee legend. From his, "doggoneit's" to his, "that's a fine play right there" and finally to his, "ahhh, well... that's baseball" s if you know that one, you're a Yankee fan.. we are going to miss Bobby and his re-assuring voice. On the field, the scrappy outfielder never said die, and against cancer, he fought it tooth and nail, but even legends are human beings. Bobby, we hope you're in a better place, playing ball on perfect green fields, catching balls on great hops in short center, giving you great chances at nailing the opposition's speedster at the plate. We're going to miss your voice, your presence and your love for the game, and for the pinstripes. Rest in peace Bobby... have a round with Gherig, Ruth, DiMaggio and Mantle on us down here. I for one can't wait to meet you one day.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

I've decided to put down a few of the reasons why I am superior to you, dear reader. I could go on for volumes on the topic but I simply do not have the time. So here are a few...

1. My VoiceI have the kind of voice that makes James Earl Jones sound like a cub scout. No matter how many cigarettes you smoke, how many times you scream until your throat is sore and red... you will never have the same velvety, masculine tone that I can pull out at a moments notice. Rupert Murdock actually asked me never to go into radio, as this move would destroy his Fox Network and T.V. in general. One time a girl sucked my dick in front of her parents just because of the way I said, "I really dig your shoes."

2. IntelligenceDon't even try it mongo, I am smarter than you. Sometimes I find it hard to date because of the inevitable feeling, of being unworthy to wipe my ass, women feel when they, "pick my brain." I can make someone feel stupid in seconds by ripping apart their deepest and most secure dreams and aspirations. Plainly put, I make people want to kill themselves because they know they'll never reach my level mentally. You'd think, that this kind of belief would inspire someone to increase their level of intelligence, but you're wrong. Because you're stupid.

3. Sexual ProwessOh yeah, that's right. Every move you've ever put on a partner, fails in comparison to the lamest moves in my vast repertoire. While you're struggling to slip your greasy finger into some co-ed's pants, I am gently setting the mood by lighting incenses from the fairest regions of the mysterious Orient.. while you're trying to unbutton your button fly pants ( yeah you're probably one of those losers who wears button fly ) I am hand feeding my conquest fresh cherrystone's on the half shell with drawn truffle butter. While you'refeebly humping away at Krystal, or Sharice, or whatever your pathetic target's name is, I am holding back my orgasm with ancient tantric pelvic restriction methods, whilst taking my conquest to new levels of ecstasy while my horse-cock does a calisthenics routine three feet deep in her snatch. Have you ever heard a woman you've JUST met say, "by everything holy in this universe I pray that you got me pregnant."? No you haven't, and you never will. I hear it two, three times a week.

4. I Never Lose FightsOh sure, I bet you've won a fight or two.... but have you won them all? Nope. Well guess what, I have. I carry a large caliber hand-gun. No one is going to beat me in a bar fight, road rage incident or anything which may lead to fisticuffs. You know what I call fisticuffs? 'Pulloutmygunicuffs'. I would fight Kimbo, Tyson, or any of those UFC fuckers, and I'd win ; because the night before the fight I would sneak into their homes and shoot them. Cowardly? Sure, but I'm alive, you're dead, I win.There will be more soon my friends, but right now I need to rest my superior brain and jerk off with my bigger more powerful hands and wang.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I never really knew my grandfathers. On my Italian side, my grandfather was your traditional hard worker that made sure he put food on the table for his family. He seemed like a great man, but died ten years before I was born. On my Puerto Rican side, my grandfather lived on the island, while I lived here in the states. He seemed like a fun-loving, great guy, but passed away when I was five, so I never really got to know him and my memories of him are pleasant, but limited. Where am I going with this? When I have kids and they have kids, I guess my days are numbered.

So where does an impressionable young boy go to find a grandfather-like figure? Many, many years ago our family received (by accident and illegally) HBO. Sure there were your new movies as always on Saturday nights, but on rare occasions (even rarer today) they would have stand-up comedian preform. As a young kid, I saw this mean looking man with a white beard and ponytail, dressed in all black standing alone on stage making people laugh by saying bad words. He cursed, made funny faces, acted animated, and made my brother and father laugh. Most importantly, there was some push back on my mom’s part with me watching it, so I knew I absolutely had to. I was memorized. I didn’t even know what I was laughing at most of the time, but it was never forced laughter. It was George Carlin. He could tell you about the state of the economy, question religion, present some observational ramblings, then crack a few fart jokes. That what I loved about Carlin. He was never above what makes us all laugh (even if we think we are too old for it) with the most intelligent things a mortal man would never think of or the simplest things in life that we take for granted. He challenged and pushed the boundaries of free speech, makes no apologies and made it look easy. Comedians like Carlin don’t grow old and die, they become legends and pioneers. If my family, friends, colleagues, associates, romantic interests, and co-workers have wondered why I complain, make off-the cuff remarks, say things that others are afraid to say, make inappropriate jokes, and question “the system”? It’s because I probably listened to too many George Carlin records in my time and have tried to emulate his style, sometimes knowingly, often unknowingly. I write on this blog and feel like an asshole-weirdo with some of the absurd things I say. Why do I say these things? Why do I think these things? Am I insane? Am I adopted? Am I drunk? (yes, no, and most of the time). About a month ago, I listened to some of my old Carlin CDs and realized one thing: he did it first. I no longer felt alone. He set the standard and all I can do is follow in footsteps, as only this patriarch and grandfather of comedy can do.

On the subject of George Carlin, I wrote a blog a couple of months ago after listening to a few his CDs. I got inspired and wrote this blog, which is angry, weird, and absurd. In the vein of (but not as good as, hey I’m not a professional, fuck off) George Carlin, here is…

Thinking Wilde

"Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit." Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde said that. Nothing more wilde has ever been so true (although that dude was a freak). Truth be told, be it written, printed, AIM away message (more on that here), or Facebook, a lot of people quote. Why? Some people want to be holistic (The Bible), some people want to be clever (insert comedian here), and some people want to get punched in the face (Paris Hilton or random whore here). Frankly, we have all quoted someone’s brain droppings at some point because we ourselves have nothing overly creative to say. Even in high school, we sum up the accumulation of 4 years (or more) by inserting a quote in our senior yearbook. I never did that, though. While my peers were quoting Steely Dan, The Bible, and Positive K (I got a man), I had zilch under my name. In hindsight, I deeply regret it. In further hindsight, I don’t at all, but in the furthest hindsight, I kind of do again. My biggest initial obstacle in failing to choose a person to quote was making sure another classmate (especially one I loathed) hadn’t already chosen the quote I likely had my probably bloodshot (I don’t remember) eyes on. I always wanted to quote someone that has never been quoted before. My choice today would have to be George Carlin. Although he is a quotable fellow that had been cited a ton of times, I recall George on stage one night pondering a sentence that had never been uttered by another human being…ever. It had to be first-rate and completely outlandish. He then came up with, “As soon as I pull this hot poker out of my ass, I’m going to chop my dick off!!” Carlin was the first ever to string those bizarre words together (I hope at least). Has that ever been quoted, in a yearbook no less? I think not.

As seen here at the 1:16 mark:

Ok, so that one is a bit extreme. I have actually seen the quote "Make love, not war" in a yearbook. While I thought that was cliche, George Carlin actually wished he was the man that created it. He didn't, so he offered up this one: "Make fuck, not kill." We have a winner, teach. It’s great to be the first. I can’t wait for that 10 year reunion coming up. So with the way technology changes, the way we can “quote” changes as well. For those of us who are too money for reading, you can watch videos online instead. Dig this, daddio, you can embed (or “put in” for you normals) videos into your own website text or Blogger account (that’s us!). I like that word embed, it’s a classy way of saying rape. That would make the news less nauseating. While we have the sentence “Serial killer Prance Hartfeld raped this latest victim”, the word “embed” and some additional synonyms could change that. Entertainment in installments eradicator Slick Prance Hartfeld embedded his swinebeast in his least tardy chicky-poo that was askin’ for it. Okay, that’s appalling. Admittedly, I’ve raped YouTube videos onto this blog. Our own Blogger Phil even tried serial rape his way into becoming the unofficial poster-boy for HULU. What better way to be original than show a video someone else made (several years ago at that). I digress, I suppose I never really cared what my peers thought of my in high school. In fact, a Carlin quote I always used for my AIM profile (talk about hypocritical) was "People who say they don't care what people think are usually desperate to have people think they don't care what people think. " Anyway, back to my yearbook quote, I wonder what that quote would look like had I been on our crack yearbook staff…..

In any case, thanks, George. You will be greatly missed by this asshole. Let us know if God is anything like Joe Pesci like you wanted. Rest in Peace, you will not be forgotten.

The world of bitching lost it's greatest ambassador today. Rest In Peace, George Carlin. From rants ranging from tongue-in-cheek to true on hate... we are going to miss his gruff voice, his ratty goatee, and his stance on well, everything. JonDrama is planning a tribute post in the man's honor and I am sure that it will not disappoint, but I felt it proper, that this blog should put up a post on the date of his passing. Thanks for the years of hilarity, the way he made us think about things we took as fact and the escape from social bullshit that he offered. I'd say, "he's with God now", but he'd probably call me a schmuck for it. Anyway... see you in the good land Irishman.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Okay, so this blog is as worthless as Phil's HULU suckfest, but come on, look at that. It's Jason Giambi's moving tribute to Don Mattingly circa his "Hitman" era playing days. I for one love it. Clean-cut Yankees manager Joe Girardi has viewed all the scouting reports and believes the Yankees owe their recent success to the power of the mustache. Johnny Damon and others are following. As for Giambi, he's breaking slumps and the hearts of single 40-something women everywhere. No mortal man can be certain as to when the first whiskers sprouted on Giambi’s upper lip but since May 15th Giambi has a .388 batting average with 5 dingers and 11 RBIs. Oh, not to mention he has upped his batting average 77 points from .181 to a much more respectable .258. How cool are Burt Renyolds and Tom Selleck now? Now the Yanks have a bit of a winning streak, so come along for the mustache ride, drink a brew or 10 and enjoy the summer.

P.S. I realized the ladies may like a fella with a clean-cut look. Well sorry, ladies if you want a clean stache, it's going to look a lot like this....

So do you want to know why you can never have this guy, ladies? Because he is strong, sensitive, and has a boyfriend. And yes, he is the best Met of the past 15 years. Kind of sad really. My third blog on mustaches, but don't worry I don't play on Piazza's team.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

When in the course of human events it becomes painfully clear that the founder of a blog has forsaken its' existence and left its' contributors to piss blindly into the wind it becomes self evident that it is altogether fitting and proper that the contributors should dissolve all allegiance to said blog and its' tyrannical creator. Phil R. Jacobs has become an abomination to the world of blogging. It has been thusly left to myself and my colleague Jonathan A. Dramathan to rear this bastard-child into a productive beacon of hope for all those who hate. In the beginning our creator posted regularly, and with much studious hilarity. In recent times, the posts have been few and when they do appear they bring much shame to the Blog of Hatredy. Hulu Phil? C'mon. We are told half-truths of busy days toiling for mere dollars and tails of a dog which has become a behemoth of hell which plagues our nights out with the Tyrant, Phil. We are told of female troubles. We are told of personal health issues. We are told of others whom just recently have returned to the fold with false-promises of powder-snow dreams. We have been replaced with false idols and have suffered through all slings and arrows without a word. Today June, 13 2008, Jonathan A. Dramathan and John N. Melnikov have decided to pledge to ourselves our sacred honor as writers of Hatredy and hereby as of this day dissolve all allegiance to the Blog and its' creator, which govern all matters of tact, prudence and language. From here out as contributors we shall post freely what we truly feel, yet were unable to properly convey, due to our newly destroyed ties to the original creator. As of this day, Hatredy will no longer exist an Shitshow Blog is created. In name we are to remain hatredy, but in spirit, Shitshow shall reign forever. We are to no longer be be-littled, we are to no longer be subject to talking about Phil's hair, nor shall we stand for the slander of our Sacred crew of 4B, by the names and petty anecdotes of outsiders. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created somewhat-equal, but it is our sacred right, to rebel against tyrants in the name of free literary expression.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

1. Get Rid of That MoustacheWhat the hell was he thinking? That thing just reeks of evil. Hell even psychos in old timey movies had Snidely Whiplash handle bar moustaches. Even though 'ol Snidely was trying the blond virgin to the train tracks, there was something about that 'stash that made you think, "eh I kinda like this guy." Sorry Adolph... the moustache was a bad idea.

2. Instead of Killing Millions of Jews, Kill Millions of Coldplay Fans.So what if they didn't exist in the 1930's-1940's... They all deserve to get it. There's nothing more dis-heartening than flipping on the radio and hearing that whiny bullshit band clanging away. It almost makes me want to drive my car into a tree. Maybe he could have killed the forefathers of Coldplay fans... how would he have know you ask? Just round up all the guys out there who cry when they see a flower, or guys who wore socks that matched their shirts. Bastards all of them.

3. Stop Yelling All The Fucking TimeDid he have to yell all the time? I mean c'monAloise (yes if you didn't know the bastard's real name was AloiseShicklegruber, Adolph Hitler doesn't sound too bad now does it?) just pipe down. What was it like taking that guys order in a restaurant? "And for you mien fuhrer?" "GIVE ME THE CHICKEN, THE CHICKEN, NO RICE, I HATE RICE, MAYBE SOME ICE WATER TO HAVE WITH IT, MY TUMMY HURTS!!! DO YOU HAVE ALKA SELTZER??" No wonder his ho offed herself.

4. Stop Trying to Kill My GrandfatherOK so maybe Hitler didn't personally try to kill my Grandfather, but his fucking army sure as hell made it a mission to do so. That shit pisses me off. My Grandfather waxed a shitload of Nazi's and that's pretty awesome. He probably would have gotten alot more if they hadn't been shooting at his tank constantly. Dirty Nazi schmucks... they had to make things complicated.

5. Shot Himself About Twenty Years Before 1945What would people say about him then? "Oh yeah Hitler? yeah he was that short weirdo painter who wrote that book about how he was the man and that Jews and pretty much everyone else in the world were bad. He was a dick dude... but who cares, lets get some pizza."

Hitler was a mass-murdering cocksucker, but there are still backwards psychos out there who think he was A-OK. What a world. Wow I want pizza now.

Yes people, yet another list. You have to understand that my job mainly consists of sitting on my ass with long periods of time where I do nothing but stare blankly until something gets my attention like a fly landing on my eyeball, or something as equally stupid. (That happened today) I was bored... very bored and I was thinking of a couple things that if I had not been at work might have served as lovely time-passing distractions.

1. Write An Article For The Newspaper

Not just any article folks... an op-ed piece. Ranting maniacally about something that happened to you when you were jerking off the other day. "So there I was, elbow deep in my own ass, hand vigorously going to town on myself and what happens? I hear a siren! Well that just threw me into a tizzy. I couldn't finish. I was too worried about wherever the police were heading. From now on I say that if anyone is going to be calling the police ..

Fuck effort. For the record, I do put some into this, but I'm hungover today. My head hurts. My stomach is growling (I don't know if it wants food or wants to reject it). I'm pretty sure I made an ass out of myself last night (as my late night phone log would dictate). Yet the world is at my fingertips. It's Sunday. I might sleep all day. I might buy an X Box 360. I might visit Grandma. I might buy Grandma an X Box 360 and take a nap. Who knows? There's a lot to do today, so I don't have time to type. Instead, I'll use this as a forum to post old Photochopped (I don't want to get sued by Adobe) images that have been sitting around for awhile.....

RuddBateI think Jason Bateman and Paul Rudd are underrated comedic actors that could star in a really good movie, but together, it would be box office gold. When thinking of a title for said buddy flick, what would the title be? RuddBate. It made me laugh hysterically for five minutes given the fact that there is absolutely no plot. After creating this, I didn't find it as funny (I'm sure you dont either). Onward....

Congratulations to my buddy Tony. He's the first of my bros to start a family. Here's a picture of that happy family.....Ok, maybe not. This bizarre photo was supposed to be part of a greater creation as a comedic foray into video, but you guessed it, I was too lazy. Maybe the video will appear on the site one day.

R.I.P. Hatredy's very own Phil. His dog ate him.

But who would commission such an act of trechary? Hmmm. Clearly someone that knows him but doesnt like him much. But I dont know any angry, evil millionaires, wait....

Mutual admiration, right there folks.

Speaking of anger, I've saved the best for last. Ladies who are pro-choice, I want to give you an option. I'm not about pro-choice, I'm about pro-choices. This is a new option....

Thanks to blogger for fucking up the picture, but I'm to lazy to do anything about it and could care less if you enjoyed this. Have a great day.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

As a full grown human adult, I realize one thing: I can be, at times and generally, an asshole. Some say its my most negative and some (especially my comrades here) think its so negative, it’s almost a positive trait. Whether it’s “borrowing” a DVD I don’t intend on ever giving back to an aquaintance, photochopping a friend in an unflattering light, avoiding or pretending I didn’t see someone in public from high school, work, or from my not that distant past (oh yeah, I saw you), I am an asshole. Hell, we are a society based on assholes. We’ve all purposefully ate the last slice without asking, parked where we weren’t supposed to, not picked up the phone for someone that doesn’t know what a loser they are, “called out sick,” threatened harsh acts of death towards fellow drivers, or just plain killed a guy. Some of our most successful public figures are assholes (Donald Trump, Gene Simmons, most U.S. Presidents, etc.). I could go on and on, but I am here to talk about a whole other society of assholes that oft times go well overlooked: children.

Children are assholes. Sure, when they are born they come out of one hole, but they act like the other in turn. Ever wonder why people say, “Don’t act like a baby.” Simply stated, you are acting like a first class, Grade-A, Glenn Guilia asshole. I’m not bashing kids, I love my nieces and nephew. I think they are awesome, but like any decently flawed human being, they do act accordingly. Crying to get your way, pandering for the newest toys, dominating the television, wearing your shoes on the wrong foot, watching the same DVD over AND OVER again, and knowingly taking what’s not yours, I even know some people my age that still act that way. I have to admire it in a way. If life was hockey, children would be goons. Yet, why aren’t children brought to justice and called out on these flaws? Well, some are grounded and some get a “time out” (mostly by pussy white parents that need to go back to “Caucasia” forever), but we forgive children because they are young, unknowledgeable, immature and don’t know any better, like your typical Mets fan. If you knew, sooner or later, that you would have to grow up, wouldn’t you really milk acting however you want? Bear in mind that there are many adults who act this way and, of course, the mentally challenged are excused. However, should you read this and still do any of these acts of childhoody, you may in fact be mentally challenged. If so, ask your folks what the deal is or if they are too busy drooling and laughing at a pink bouncy ball (or watching According To Jim on syndication), please see a doctor. With that said, I am majestically segwaying into another list. Why majestically? Because I myself am a royal asshole. Anyway, here’s a short list of things children do to make themselves Lil Denis Learies…

Pee wherever you want (while sober) – I miss this one, especially in the tub. Nothing like waking up, taking a shower to clean off the grime of hours elasped, and getting rid of some excess urine in the process (sorry, ladies). Taking a piss naked is great (I am man, hear me roar…and drip). Somewhere down the line, I knew that my parents standing on my old urine (soap can’t rid everything) was wrong and stopped (regardless of pipes leading to one place, Costanza). I think when I was an infant and fully potty-trained I remember knowingly pissing myself one last time, thinking, “Mom, will make the arrangements.” That, my friends, is the work of a true asshole. Great work, pissy pants.

Spill something and NOT pick it up – This was awesome. There is nothing funnier and scarier than a really little kid trying to pour a 2 liter or gallon container into a tiny cup or glass. Best and worst case scenario, the glass is missed, the beverage container is dropped, spilled, and the glass is shattered. It really sucks if you are the adult and have to clean it up and naturally you would be peterbed. This leads to anger at the child. If you are a smart child, you cry, the parent feels sorry, and said child gets the beverage and didn’t have to clean up anything. Nice play, bucktooth.

Eating “stuff” – Stuff isn’t limited to food, either. How do you think we know that grass, ear wax, boogers, and Legos tasted bad (alright this blog is turning into the Freddy Got Fingered script). “Excuse me waiter, I’ll have the dandelion, mashed french fries sprinkled with your finest boogers and for desert I’ll have some ear wax along with the Lego. You know, the ones small enough to get lodged in my throat, so I may possibly die, sir.” Excellent choice. Way to live on the edge, Bingo. Moving on…

Wear whatever you want (while being deemed a “normal”) - I once went out of the house to play in a cartoon-Magic Johnson sweatshirt, cheap neon sunglasses, red jean shorts, yellow Hulk Hogan wristbands, purple Donatello TMNT kneepads, cheap neon green and blue sneakers from Bob’s, a cape and a tophat (yes, I had one back then too). I was the Teenage Mutant Hogan Johnson Magician Turtle Retard (I don’t feel tardy). My brother concurred to say the least. Way to dress, Palooka.

Wear flip-flops everywhere and not be an asshole – As a kid I wore my fair share of cartoon-themed sandals. To me it’s a beach and kid thing. But from stoners with “Jesus” sandals to women wearing them out at night, flip-flops are everywhere. I am writing this at work as we speak (a professional office job) and I hear that unmistakable flip-flop sound…and it gives me a friggin tumor (actually, it’s not a tuma). Flippity-floppity, open-toed whores. It annoys me, you ain’t at the beach sweetpants and unless you’re a kid, don’t do it. Be a fuckin pro, dollface.

If you are a kid and are smart enough to read this, keep it up, your cuteness will die sooner than you think. A Long Island drunk once said, these are the times to remember, so do just that. P.S. – if you are an ugly kid: beware. The tables will drastically turn. As Americans, we feel sorry for ugly kids, but in adulthood, you’ll get what coming to you, you ugly stupid kid. Until next time, learn to love it, learn to live with it, diamonds are forever, but your youth ain’t, you little shits.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

I like to consider myself something of a movie buff. I watch a ton of movies all ranging from silent films to current day supermegaboner box office hits. I give everything a chance. Movies are a legitimate artistic medium and I believe they all, to some degree of another, have merit. I will never watch the Fucking Notebook. Every girl from here to hell seems to automatically orgasm at the mere mention of it. The movie has taken on something of a mythic proportion. AIM away messages, (see my post on them) profile quotes, hell even ring tones are dedicated to whatever sappy line is currently making them teary eyed and gushy. Enough is enough.

When I see a quote from that movie in any form on the net, posted by anyone, guy or girl my fucking blood boils. Not a quote from the Bible, Koran, Torah, Declaration of Independence, Gettysburg Address, Constitution, hell even the Communist Manifesto.... no I am forced to read something from a movie which was created for the supreme reason of making money on the fragile hearts of young girls. If you didn't think we were going to hell before, well guess again. Some movies can be categorized by the majority as, masterpieces. Goodfellas, The Third Man, Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane, Fight Club... the list goes on and on. Sit any girl down to watch any of these movies and more than likely mid-way through she'll get up and walk away. Show her a movie with some guy with a five o'clock shadow going through some sort of romance related hell and a scene where to people make out in the rain and she'll probably cry like a fucking pansy.

Ladies, you don't have to be the stereotypical ditz that loses her shit when the boy gets the girl in these kinds of movies. Anyone who has experienced love knows that for all the wonderful moments that it presents us, there's and equal number of moments that feel like you've been sodomized in half by a horse. Do you want men to treat you equally? Do you want women to treat you equally? Do you want to me looked at as intellectuals? If so, it may be a good idea not to fall to pieces at a pre-dertemined time, put into a movie purposely by a billion dollar industry that feeds on your emotions. If Hollywood only made movies for one whole year, along the lines of the movies nominated for best picture last year, i.e. No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood... you'd see Brad Pitt driving around L.A. in a fucking Scion. Doesn't work that way.

I agree that movies, essentially, are made to entertain... but when entertainment becomes a model for you to deal with real-life situations concerning love, or the human heart in general, it's time to stand up and look in the mirror. What do you see? I'll tell you honey... I see a bonifidedipshit. Wake up... and for God's sake put on some make up.

P.S. Ladies, go to Blockbuster this weekend, and just pick a random movie... something you've never heard of. Go online and post a quote from it. Do something unique. Oh and once you're done put on something tight and go out and use what God gave you. For my sake.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Alright here's some stuff that REALLY pisses me off... or at least it's been pissing me off recently.

1. Cal RipkenWhat the fuck is there to like about this guy??? Because he played alot of baseball games in a row??? Wow what a TEAM player. This guy is the quintessential bad sportsman. Everyone likes to talk about his streak, but no one talks about the games where he was nothing more than a balding, hulking, old, doughy faced drip out there sucking it up for the O's... and hindering the team. "Hmm.. Cal can you play today, you don't look very good, I mean you're bleeding pretty profusely from the eyes, nose, ears, ass and mouth." SURE I CAN!!! Nice record asshole. There is no I in team, unless you played for the O's in the 80's, then there was ... it was called Cal Ripken

2. SoccerHeres and Idea for a sport... We get a bunch of guys and a ball, follow me so far? Ok so we all run around a HUGE field, I mean big, like almost TOO big.. you still with me? Ok so here's the best part, we try to kick said ball into a net! I'M SERIOUS!! We totally kick the fuck out of it and try to get it in the net... oh and we can't use our hands. "Well... we'll anybody guard the net?" OH FUCK YEAH!!! A guy will def be there and get this... HE can use his hands. Dude your mind is so blown right now! "Alright well... what happens if no one scores, or it's tied?" I knew you'd ask that... if that happens we get to totally kick it at the net! "So the game is alot of running and then at the end if its tied we make the game ridiculously easy to end it?" Exactly dude, exactly. "Ok well what if we still cant score, and the other team can't score either?" You ready for this man?? We go home... I swear dude we just end the game. TIE GAME MAN!! EVERYONE WINS!!! "I'm gonna go home and smash my head open with a balpeen hammer." HOLY SHIT BRO!! I WAS DOING THAT ALL MORNING AND THEN I CAME UP WITH SOCCER!!

3. HippiesTake a shower, cut your hair, stop listening to music which was created years ago to rebel against people like yourselves and get a fucking job. If anything, the music of the 60's and 70's was all about expression, and not following the crowd... so how better to celebrate that music than dressing like that guy at the cafe who's always grinning, growing dreadlocks, and saying "man" after everything. Get over yourself douchebag you drive an SUV.

4. SandalsNothing like the look, or smell of feet. Especially in the summer... when you naturally sweat more. Feet are hideous. Sorry girls, you can paint them, wash them, scrub them, whatever you do to them and their still going to be gross. No one wants to look at them. Guys... what the fuckin hell are you thinking? "Well Johnnyboy, its comfortable." Go fuck yourself that's a load of horseshit. Have you ever seen a guy keeled over of wincing in pain and anguish? I'm sure most of us have at one time or another... Now imagine that guy... you walk over, and ask him if he's alright. Now imagine you hear him reply with, "AHHH MY FEET ARE HOT!!" I know that personally I would probably pee on the guy, or at least break a thumb or two.

5. FrisbeeI'd like to think that we've come pretty far as a group... yet we're still bewildered by a fuckin lime green plastic plate. You know what I do when someone tosses me a Frisbee? I take it and purposely launch it in the wrong direction. After a couple of tosses like that, whoever is throwing me the stupid thing gets the point and we can move on to wiffle ball. "But dude its fun!" So is jerking off but I don't do it at picnics. Get a new hobby Mongo.

More soon but I'm tired... there's another thing that pisses me off, being tired. I'll talk about that some other time.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The last list I created was a truly a pain. It was a Top Ten that provoked a lot of thought and effort on my part. That’s not what this blog is all about. This time, I’ve decided to branch out with multiple categories and just create the top “what-have-you” in said category. Without any further dissertation on this, let’s get right into the scary…

Top Woman I Be Intimidated To Have Sex With

Jamie Lee Curtis – Now, I know what you Macho Men are thinking, “He just can’t fit his winky in her pinky, uhuh.” No, I’m cool on that front, hell a very early me had a very early boner from watching Ms. Lee Curtis show her tits in Trading Places (still do). While she seemed like a happy hooker in that flick, it’s the real woman that has scared me. My old man gets AARP magazine (not a bad read for bad shits) and JLC “bares all” from the shoulder up and one thing’s for sure: I’m still frightened. Congrats, she still has a great body and all, but looking at those menacing, wincing eyes, that now pepper grey short hair cut, and that stiff upper lip still makes my dick cringe in fear. What would it be like to have sex with Jamie Lee Curtis? I assume there is NO foreplay whatsoever and I’d probably have to be fully clothed (assuming she is disgusted by all men) with only my fly open for penis access. It is a rather militant operation that lasts as long as Ms. Curtis sees fit. During the whole thing she is probably watching the WE Channel or Monster Truck races very loudly and since Gravedigger doesn’t turn me on that much, I’m in big trouble. For the life of me, I better keep this thing up before she clenches together and rips my junk right off. After I receive a few black eyes and JLC angrily gets off, a report card of what I did right and mostly wrong is received, as I lay in the fetal position and I feel like less of a man because of the whole experience. The other reason I Jamie Lee Curtis scares me? I don’t go for dudes (sorry Sigourney Weaver).SigourneySidenote: I have to admit feeling weird for thinking Sigourney Weaver was hot in Ghostbusters considering she turned into what we all thought she was in the first place: a monster.

Top Douchebag I Should Hate, But Secretly AdmireBret Michaels – Glam Rock to me is the metal equivalent for disco, but I kind of respect the guy. He was the first rocker to bang Pamela Anderson (Tommy Lee and Kid Rock are still fighting over his sloppies). He’s stayed true to his shit form of rock and it’s worked. Bret is an idiot, a douche, a womanizer and doesn’t stray away from that stigma. He’s parlayed it into a reality show and now new generations that were in diapers when Poison was on the charts want to jump his bones. As I look in my closet at my played-out obnoxious Ed Hardy polo, I see a little Bret Michaels in me. Straight men of America can all see Bret in them figuratively. Women of Rock of Love have seen Bret in them literally.

Top 80's Trainwreck Clip That's Fun To Watch

Corey Haim - The clip says it all and yes Lost Boys 2 is in fact coming out straight-to-DVD with both Coreys (although I question Haim's speaking lines after watching this).

Top 2 Guys I’d Like See An Enemy Stuck In An Elevator WithDavid Lee Roth and FlavaFlav – Sure, you might be thinking, “I can party with these guys. I like hip-hop and rock, I can have a great time with these guys.” Ugh, that’s what I first thought. Imagine being totally sober in an elevator. In comes David Lee Roth. Awesome, right! Wrong. I love DLR as much as any fan of Van Halen, but think about how obnoxious he’d be. Highsteping and kicking like a Rockette, all the while making incomprehensible scat noises (bippy-bop!) and such. He’s wasted with a bottle of something really expensive, doesn’t want to share that bottle, and tells you he is the reason Van Halen is successful again (foreshadowing yet another break-up). Then when things couldn’t get any worse on this excruciating elevator of death, in walks FlavaFlav. Yelling and screaming and not making any sense, his gigantic clock (and maybe glock as well) make the ride more claustrophobic than Diamond Dave’s highstepping ever was. So Flav’s yelling and Dave making mocking kissy lips with a victim sandwiched in between...I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy (who am I kidding, I would wish much worse). Bippy-boop, indeed.

Top Story We Need To Get Over ForeverYo Roids! Watching Barry Bonds cheat his way past Hank Aaron’s record and see his massive head (dome, not just ego) inflate grotestly is disgusting. Did Roger Clemens do it? His stats reached an all-time peak after the Red Sox stint, coincidentally when he is being accused are being of enhancing performance. While I thought he was a bad-ass throwing a broken bat at fumanchu wearing Mike Piazza (the Pizza-Man was always a little light on his feet anyway), there was some roid-raging going on there. The debate remains…should they be in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown? I say without a doubt, absolutely 100%. I think half of Roger Clemens should be there for real reasons, while Barry Bonds should get his own wing, possibly in a bathroom, utility closet, or how about just a hole (think Silence of the Lambs-ish). Throw Cancesco (whose name Spellcheck wanted to correct to “cancers”, how fitting) in there, Sosa, hell even Palmeiro. Why, you ask? I graduated the eighth grade and high school along with five and a half years of college…barely. One of my teachers senior year of high school wrote: “Close Call” (asshole Mr. Wright). In grammar school, I made first and later second honors six years in a row. Alright, so I hit puberty and did nothing for the next six years academic wise. Did my father praise me? No, I got the “you barely made it so we don’t care about your previous accomplishments.” That’s how it should be in baseball. While the halls of academia have honored me with a piece of paper, my family did not let me forget how I screwed up in the past. That’s what life is: a series of trials and errors. Create the Bonds Wing in Cooperstown so we all have a place to piss freely and throw our garbage. HatredySidenote: Fuck Barry Bonds.

Top Guy To Really Overachieve With Women (aka the Lyle Lovitt 2008 Award)

Jordan Bratman (the guy who knocked up Christina Aguilera) – He impregnated one of the hottest, actually talented pop stars and he as neck flab! He’s worse-looking and in worse shape than me. Good for him. Thanks for the hope, Brat Man.

Top Casting for a Crazy Homeless Guy

Jerry Lewis (Law and Order) - From Jerry’s Kids to Jerry’s, uh, Shit. “Got any spare change, glaven.” And he was a murder suspect too! Ah, the hilarity. A small part of me would find it hilarious if it were real too. Somewhere in heaven Dean Martin is laughing. Ain’t that a kick in the head.

Top (Former) Fat Guy That I Gave Up HatingJared from Subway – It was one of the first “healthy” aimed commercials for fast food and he was (still is) all over their marketing. I grew tired of him. Then South Park parodied him. That was six years ago. His real ads have been running for nearly 10 YEARS. I got my license, lost my virginity, graduated high school, graduated college, saw a few deaths, saw a few births, moved, and had a few jobs all the while this guy has stayed true to his diet and hocked these fucking subs on us. I give up, keep pimping out those hoagies Jared.

Top Disturbing Thing I’d Like To DoPunch a really, really hot girl in the face – Think of the scenario, guys. You’re drunk. You’re frisky. You’re courageous. You decide to spit game at a girl that’s way out of your league. Then she rejects you, cold. Not even the old “I have to catch up with my friends” bit. Just plain rude to you. Your friends saw the whole thing. Your confidence is shattered. It ruins your night (until the next drink). Picture the same scenario: rejected. Let’s make it worse, her mini-van shaped friend laughs in your face too. That’s okay guy, you’ve got the power of the punch! She laughs at you, so you deck her square in her face. Your buddy then throws his drink in the fat friend’s face. Then security escorts them out in a huff. You win. Perfect. Actually, I am firmly against violence against women, so let’s just have a dog pounce them instead. Oh and let’s stop making those slutty kissy faces!!!

So I just read the bowl of gizz that my colleague Phil has posted about his love for Hulu. If you haven't read it yet, please do now, or this post wont make much sense. Let me explain why I'm flaming his post. Couple weeks back, Phil and I were on our way back from NYC and he was telling me about this great new site where they had EVERY MOVIE AND TV SHOW YOU COULD THINK OF!!!!! Every show I named, every movie I named... Phil assured me I could find it on Hulu. He told me how it was a relatively new site and he had just discovered it... now this SHOULD have sent up red flags in my mind but at the time I didn't think about what he had just said. We'll get back to that shortly...

So I get myself an account and begin to use the site. There's not much to say about it ... other than the fact that I had been completely lied to. Chock full O Simpsons episodes? Try 3, and they all sucked. Every movie I could think of?? More like 50 and the best one that I could find on the list was "Very Bad Things", which isn't a very good movie. "Dude they have like everything on there, its fuckin awesome, they have alot of shit that you can't find anywhere else." nada. If you're a fan of obscure, hard to find and truly hilarious or for that matter, awesome drama/suspense, Hulu... is not where you want to try to find it. I've found a ton of stuff on Youtube, and three lousy episodes of the Simpsons and a thousand clips from SNL, heres the kicker folks; I don't watch SNL. Great.

I realized shortly afterwards why Phil loved(s) this site so much; because HE found out about it before his group of friends did. That reason alone will fuel his love for it until eventually a brightly colored ball rolls by his window and he decides to chase it. The Hulu brass could fuck his dog with a plunger, break Phil's leg and then force him to fellate a corpse and he'd still think it was "the shit" because HE found out about it before I did, and the site was in its infancy when he did. Now I realize that the site is new, and that its going to take time before more people upload their shit onto it (or however it works) and make it decent, but honestly folks I'm not willing to wait. I have Youtube, I have Limewire, hell I even have netflix... so I don't have to be a Huluboy. Aside from those reasons now I have another reason to hate it.... Phil loves it. That's all I needed.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

I drink more than an IRA hitman living in London... above Scotland Yard. I also smoke cigarettes, and I am in my early, soon to be mid, twenties. Put those three facts together along with a serious escapist mentality, you have someone who like alot of other people, likes to go out on the weekends. When I was in my teens going out was a release. We would go out looking for girls, parties, we'd skateboard in parking lots, try desperately to score beer, some of us smoked weed, some people did other things but all in all it was good ol' fashioned American fun. I live in close proximity to New York City, (about 45 minutes by highway) so that was always an option too. All in all kids in this area, although just as bored as kids in any other area, had a good amount of options. Now I am in my mid twenties and skateboarding would end up with me breaking something, weed puts me to sleep and parties give me the heebiejeebies. I still like chicks though, so hell... I go out. If I didn't have a healthy sex drive I would probably never leave the house. Lets face it, its a hell of a lot cheaper to have your friends come over to drink a case of beer and a handle of whiskey... but you cant fuck your friends.... Well I suppose you could but my friends are ass-ugly and I haven't reached that level of horniness yet. (sorry bro'syou're not ugly ... but in my eyes you're all hideous swamp monsters)

So lets go out. Alright first off, my friends and I are not the kind of drinkers where we can have a couple to feel loose and laugh the night away. We have a set way of doing things. Pretty much boils down to this... shower, put on nice clothes, do the hair, brush the teeth, throw on cologne and head out to find something with a vagina that sees this neatly wrapped package and decides she wants to unwrap it and ruin all the hard work. So we hit the bar, inevitably its too loud to speak at a normal tone so there is alot of yelling. Throw a fiver on the bar and suck down a beer. Alright the hunt is on. Now I'm not going to go through the whole play by play of a night out on the town, but maybe some of you guys reading this will agree with this next break down of the night... in three parts.. 1. Drink and try to meet girls... 2.(A) Get lucky and meet a girl, drink with her and either strike out or hit a homerun, (B) Don't meet anyone, and decide to get shithoused drunk to the point of blacking out... 3. Crashing.

It goes to say that not everyone in the group agrees on the spot so there is always someone at least peeved to be there in the first place. (that's usually me) At one point in the night everyone does a shot together, oh what fun! Then whoever the cheap one is, asks who has the round covered. Normal people buy rounds, we don't. So the bartender has to wait there as we all scuttle through our wallets to try to find the right amount, sort of like a hobo trying to score a free burger at McD's... hoping that eventually the person behind the counter will say, "ahh just take it." Gotta love this little nugget of the male mind during a night on the town. We will buy any girl we have JUST met with tits and pretty eyes anything she wants, but buying a drink for guys you've laughed, cried and grown up with... fuck that shit. Sometimes you do it, and figure that covers you until the end of the year, but most of the time its every man for themselves. Its a fucking jungle out there, and its a jungle full of groups of guys doing the SAME FUCKING THING YOU'RE DOING!!!! I'm amazed anyone gets laid these days. Ever notice that theres ALWAYS more dudes than chicks at a bar? Don't get it twisted lads... girls maybe insane but they ain't stupid. So lets move on... the drinking is in full swing and people are making moves. The less successful hunters hang by the bar, the "winners" are chatting up their catches and the environment hasn't gotten any more inviting... in fact its getting old.

Now someone wants to leave... and if everything is aligned perfectly in the cosmos, the rest of the group concurs. So you leave, and head to another bar. A fresh scene and guess what this brand new canvas is full of? Groups of guys getting drunk and trying to get laid. Sometimes you recognize them from the bar you just came from. Bars in the United States, and all over the world really are around for two reasons... to get drunk and to try to find someone to fuck. If you have a girlfriend, wife ... whatever you don't take her to the bar to get hammered to fuck her, you can do that sober. People take their significant others to bars to have fun but these people make me sick. You're just taking up space... buy a bottle of wine, throw on a movie and get the hell away from the bar, I'm on the job here, you're just visiting. Lets say its getting late in the night and now some of the boyos are getting hungry, tired or far too drunk. What the hell is "too drunk"?? Drunk is drunk. It would be like if you said in conversation... "boy I really miss my old dog but he is wayyyy too dead." From now on if you're feeling nauseated or like you're at the point of passing out just say, "I'm drunk"... we'll all get the point. The guys who say they're "really drunk" are the guys who can tell you every fucking drink they had the next day.

If you got lucky, well then congratulations but more likely than not, you didn't. Its like baseball... if you hit the ball three out of ten times you're a three hundred hitter and you can get your ass into the hall of fame. If you get laid once every couple of months hitting the bars, well shit you deserve to have your number retired. So at the end of the night when you're home, alone, ears still ringing from all the shitty music you had to listen to that you don't like in the first place, head spinning from mixing liquor and throat sore from endless cigarettes, and well... in the same place you started, but a little broker and just as horny... welcome to being a young male adult in the U.S. The game is just as difficult now as it ever was and it's never going to get any easier. So why do we do this to ourselves over and over again? Because my friends... well... I don't know. Is it fun? Sure. Is meeting girls a thrill? Sure. Do you think it was everything you thought it was going to be a few hours earlier when you were making plans for the big night? No. Don't get discouraged though, there's always next weekend.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

In the not too distant past, there was a ruthless billionaire who ruled the most widely recognized sports franchise in history with an iron fist. Like all Greatmen, he has slowed down with age. The team spends millions to win, yet doesn’t win the championship (eight years in New York is feeling like 20). Every spring, “it’s going to be different.” This year, the son of a ruthless billionaire takes over the reigns as vocal asshole. Yet, it’s coming off in hilarious fashion, like Tommy Boy taking over for Big Tom Callahan. The ending was happy, so I’ll remain optimistic for this road trip we are on of a season called 2008 New York Yankees baseball. With Mr. April A-Rod back, Yankee Stadium being torn down, and the Mets looking good, I do have one question, what the hell has happened?

I grew up being a fan of the New York Yankees. I love that team. From the House That Ruth Built, the logo, the colors, from the Curse of the Bambino, to Legends Field, to Don Mattingly, from the fence, the late 90s dynasty, and look, the smell (of the grass anyway), and the presence of Yankee Stadium…its’ hard not to respect the traditions growing up where I have. I’ve been a proud man about this for a long time, but the tables have changed and we all have to except it. As a child, the Reggie Jackson-era Yanks won those World Series about five years before I was born. Then came the 80s. The Summer of Sam was over, the World Series titles were over, and the only murders involved season ticket holders. Irrational decisions from an irrational billionare (George Steinbrenner) and the many firings and rehirings of Billy Martin, all the while Donnie Baseball is struggling to keep his sanity on mediocre teams and putting up MVP numbers comprised my Yankees from 1983-1995. In 1996, Mattinngly retired, Joe Torre (a National League guy who recently was fired from the Cardinals) was hired, and the Yankees were a mix of seasoned veterans, unknown young players (Rivera, Jeter). I didn’t have much hope. Then it happened, they won the World Series. I treated this as I did the NY Giants Superbowl this year, an impromptu miracle season that likely wouldn’t be duplicated. Not only was it duplicated, but starting in 1998 the Yanks won three more. It was a great time to be a Yankees fan. Johnnyboy on this very column proudly sported an offical Yankee jacket; the very same one Joe Torre would smugly slump on the bench on for the next seven years. That jacket was a sign of things to come. Johnnyboy almost got into a pretty big bruhaha over that piece of cloth and nylon and it was one of the earliest instances of people disliking not just the Yankees, but anyone that had anything to do with them (it’s not like we live in Boston) in the dominant era of the franchise. The Yankees struck fear in the heart of their victims and as much as I loved the ruthless aggression the Yanks showed, I knew they became the evil empire along the way.

Slowly, yet surely I sensed the danger looming ahead. September 11, 2001 was the biggest tragedy I have witnessed in my lifetime. The Yanks were in the Series that year. “Let do it for New York! Let’s do it for America! Let’s do it for Jonny (me, not that Melnikov asshole in the photo)!!!” They didn’t. They lost to a team in Arizona. Arizona?!?!? They were only an expansion team three years before and Arizona is where old people go to die. All I know is that I am still rather enthusiastic about this year’s team. Maybe Torre’s way was running old, maybe the Curse of the Don is erased (sorry, Mr. Mattingly, sir), maybe Hank will rule with a successful fist. Maybe Redsox fans have done the same thing (that being faked optimism) year after year until 2004. God, this bizzaro world has got to stop. Go Yanks!!!

P.S. Sending me Yankee cheers on Facebook won’t necessarily make the team win, so screw off.

Monday, March 31, 2008

We've all been there. Anxiety, sweat, anticipation, constipation... The first date. Maybe you've met the person before. Maybe it's a blind date. Whichever the case may be... if you get to the line of scrimmage and don't like the look of the defense, here are 5 sure fire ways to get your ass out of there.

1. Start Masturbating FuriouslySubtly. Don't whip it out or throw your hand down your pants... slide them down there, like a gentleman, or lady. Right about the time where the un-holy beast is telling you about how much they're job sucks... just nod 'uh huh', and slide your hand down to your crotch slowly, begin to rub.. vigorously. Your date will ask, "are you ok? do you like, have an itch?" Respond by saying... "Nah I don't, I'm jerking off." If he or she doesn't excuse themselves from the table at that point... move to number 2.

2. Announce that you think that, 'Hitler was cool, but he had some bad ideas.'If your date is Jewish, they will leave immediately. If not they will question your statement. Counter with... "I just think that maybe if like he hadn't killed just Jews, Poles, Russians, French, Belgians, Retarded people, Intellectuals, Doctors, Artists, Lawyers, Priests and Pollacks, maybe his shit wouldn't stink so bad, ya know?" If your date is still at the table. You have got yourself a Nazi. Run with it, into number 3...

3. Re-cant everything you have just said.Laugh it off, tell your date that you just said all that stuff about Hitler to see what kind of reaction you'd get... because what you really wanted to say was.... and then tell him/her that you enjoy watching your underground copies of 'New York Midget on Midget Plus Donkey.' What is NYMMD you ask? Who the fuck knows... at this point you're dealing with a Nazi.. time to get tough. Tell him or her, how you enjoy watching that cute face of pain wash into a lovely face of angry pain, and how animals were put on this earth for us to use... not just for food. Alright I'm getting sick just thinking about this and I'm the one fucking writing it. You get the point though... just start spouting out stupid bullshit about underground German porn, or something that you find nauseating. If your date at this point hasn't left... its time for the big guns.

4. Run to your car and change into the Spanish Conquistador costume you stashed away in the trunk.Return to the table, or bar and start saying things like; "Cortez has given me a map, a map which marks a place, where dreams are made, ancient songs ring in the air, a place which I will take you, after your crab cocktail." "You remind me alot of the Aztec God of obesity." Refuse to take off your helmet, for it is in such hospitable environments, that men can turn to the most deplorable demons. Start throwing things at neighboring tables, and when the patron turns to you, blame it on the God quetzalcoatl. This should work. Insanity is usually a deal breaker in most cases, unless the person youre with also insane.

5. Ask your date if they're, 'into diarrhea'If he or she says yes.... marry them. Ok so diarrhea is disgusting, but its also intriguing. I'm not saying you should think about jumping into a diarrhea fetish, but think about the sexual possibilities with a person who is that depraved. If the hump you're about to hump is in to liquid poop... you've got it made in the shade. That is truly the last frontier and if you have reached that on the first date... May all the whiskey in Cork sing you to thy rest.

P. S. - I do not endorse coprophagia, beastiality or midget pornography in any way shape or form. If YOU do... hey, it's your world I just live in it.